I Can't Seem To Breathe Easy
by JMHaughey
Summary: Birthday smut for RositaLG!


A/N: Happy Birthday to my fellow Hamlet Dweller, **RositaLG**! Thank you for the friendship, you are amazing and I'm lucky to call you a friend! I heart you.

This is my first Bones smut piece and I hope you enjoy it.

Many thanks to **Dispatch22705** for giving this the beta eye.

Disclaimer: Pffft.

* * *

I can't seem to breathe easy, no  
Not when you're around, oh

_**Mmm**_ | Laura Izibor

* * *

Of course he wanted to take her home. He was an unattached man sitting with an attractive, intelligent, tequila-shooting woman. What's the harm? He'd just fired her.

Maybe they would never have to discuss it; the awkward morning after—to leave, to stay, to have coffee or breakfast? When do I leave? Spend the day? One more time, what's the harm?

Usually, he does it and thinks about it after or during, if it doesn't go according to his expectations.

He already knew he wanted to stay. She was different. She was Bones.

They raced out the door then stood in the doorway with their noses almost touching, invading each other's personal space. He was so close to her he could smell the staleness of the alcohol seeping through her pores. He was liking this. He tried to think of the last time a woman went shot for shot with him at a bar—that moment escaped him.

The rain pummeled down around this mis-matched non-partner couple. He was mesmerized by her and confessed the secret he could barely confront within himself. He wanted to share with her; he didn't know why, but he sensed that she was so honest—maybe that was what he needed but didn't realize it until just that moment.

He tasted the possibility of spending the night with her. Not just a simple peck on the cheek or a graze on the mouth but a beginning of a thank-you-for-firing-me-let's-go-back-to-my-place-and-stay-up-all-night type of kiss. Their tongues collided, the effects of alcohol and anticipation firing through their veins.

For that reason, Brennan broke free and ran toward the idling cab, indicating she was going home alone. Booth was right behind her, but he knew he wouldn't be sliding in the backseat of the yellow cab with her.

As the rain misted around him, his brain caught up with the reality. The adrenaline coursing through his system was a high that warred against the sinking facts around him:

He hadn't gone with her.

He'd gambled and lost.

He wasn't sure what to do.

He just wanted another moment with her. As he watched the cab take her away, he realized he didn't care about the rain anymore. He was already soaked to the bone. Walking back to his apartment, the journey felt longer with every step. He couldn't get Dr. Temperance Brennan out of his mind. He had just fired her from the case—their only logical reason for seeing one another again. Sure, he knew where she lived, as an FBI agent, he'd made sure she was everything her file claimed. But in reality, she was more.

He stood in the entryway of his apartment for a fraction of a second and then turned and walked back out. Why couldn't he show up at her apartment? He wanted to give this a chance, whatever it was.

He was captivated by her, in a way that had nothing to do with tequila but everything to do with the way he could still taste her on his lips. He wasn't ready to never see her again. It was time for another gamble.

* * *

Booth walked to her apartment building. He stood outside, contemplating whether to knock or to just turn around and go home. Be a man and do it already, he thought.

After he knocked, he waited, his mind immediately rushing back to her mention of a physics professor who wanted her. What if he was there? This was crazy. It was late. She was probably sleeping. He shouldn't have come.

Yet…he stood there, waiting for the sound of the door being unlocked. And then…she opened the door.

Her hair was still damp, a blue nightgown draped over her glowing skin and a robe covered the rest. She seemed surprised, her eyes holding the question of why he was there. Half asleep, tousled and sexy, she was radiant to him.

He stepped toward her, already recognizing the sizzling electricity between them. He reached his hand under her chin and immediately caught her lips with his. She'd asked a silent question with her gaze, and he'd replied just as silently. When her hands settled against his chest, he accepted the invitation and soon his fingers were toying with the belt of her robe. He wanted her. He wanted to see her, to see what she was hiding underneath.

Brennan took a step back, but only to silently close the door behind him. Once she clicked the deadbolt, she ran her fingers along his shoulders. She peeled his jacked away first and left it on the floor. He reached again for her robe, but she shook her head and wordlessly continued to undress him. Belt, pants, boxers, shirt—all a trail from her door to her bedroom. A line of breadcrumbs for him to find his way out.

Not that either of them were thinking about that.

They were standing right outside her bedroom. Nothing was stopping them from continuing this night from the comfort of her bed. But as he leaned down and began to pepper her with kisses and her head instinctively fell back, they both grew too impatient and they never made it to the bed.

Brennan took his hand in hers and then seductively moved until she'd pinned him to the wall. "You like that?" she asked, but didn't wait for a reply before shedding her robe. Her bare skin glowed from the reflective moonlight seeping through her bedroom.

"Mmhmmm," Booth was hypnotized by the sight of her. He reached down and grasped the hem of her blue negligee. "What do we have here?" he teased as his fingers let go of the silk and made contact with her skin. He delicately traced the inside of her thigh, feeling nothing but bare skin, even between her legs. She was a beautiful mystery, and he was happy to fall under her spell.

Brennan instinctively shivered at the feel of his warm fingers. And she arched back when he slipped one, and then another deep inside her. "Me, Booth. Just me," she answered with a smile, lifting one leg up and over his hip. Booth groaned and his hips shot forward until the tip of his penis grazed against her sensitive clit. They both gasped, and Brennan looped an arm around his neck to pull him down for another kiss.

"Tell me what you want," he murmured against her lips.

"You. Inside me," she wasted no words, and Booth wasted no time stripping her of the negligee and staring at her—all of her. "God, you're beautiful," he rasped, smoothing a hand over her chest.

His gaze followed, moving from her shoulder to her breast. He bent his head and licked the tip of her nipple until she shivered again. Shivering was good. Her head tipped back as he moved to her other breast.

They both laughed when she arched against him and practically jumped into his arms. Her legs wrapped around his body and gently, Booth slid inside her. Synchronized, they moved, creating a rhythm neither ever wanted to end. Each of them transferring heat and passion and white hot desire until a fierce pleasure crashed down on them.

When they breathlessly broke apart, they couldn't stop staring at each other or stealing kisses. Tequila be damned. No regrets. Never.

* * *

He woke up and looked around, rubbing his eyes as he sat up. He looked over at the other side of the bed. There she was—his partner.

Her hair was splayed across the pillow and down her back. She turned toward him and shimmied closer, and he heard a cry from the other room.

"Sleep, Bones. I'll get her," he leaned down and kissed her, just as he'd done a million times since that night—the first night when everything was supposed to make sense. He looked into her eyes and smiled.

He'd come to a conclusion not so long ago—if they had shared that very, very first night, all the nights that followed would have been different. They would have changed a part of their journey. And now, he knows however long it took to get them there was alright. It was life. It was theirs.

Nothing happens unless first a dream.


End file.
